Not Just A Man
by SVUFanatic611
Summary: PostRipped. But something led him here. Some higher power stronger than he guided him to this very place. But it led him, and then left him. While visiting a place that holds a memory stronger than he, Elliot has a long, overdue conversation with someone


Title: _Not Just A Man_

Author: SVUFanatic611

A/n – Well, it's certainly been awhile! I've been really busy with school and the like, but I'm trying as best as I can…really! But, anyway, this is just something that came through my head. You tell me if it's good or not.

Spoilers: post- Ripped, so if you haven't seen "Ripped," then this won't make any sense. So, watch the episode if you haven't so you can read this!

Disclaimer: totally not mine.

---  
** Cypress Hills Cemetery  
Brooklyn, Queens County, New York  
October 6  
-1:15pm-**

He stands, but his knees and legs are numb. He wants to sit down, but he knows he won't stay long. He can't. He won't let himself.

He's not even sure why he came here. He didn't plan it, and in the back of his mind, he knows he doesn't want to be here. But something led him here. Some higher power stronger than he guided him to this very place. But it led him, and then left him. He wishes it had stayed. He feels so cold and alone now.

The wind hits his face harshly and it brings him back to reality. He looks down and sees the leaves being brushed away from the small block of concrete, revealing the engraved lettering. He laughs bitterly at what the words say.

**Patrick Gregory Stabler  
Beloved Husband, Father, and Grandpa  
May he rest in peace. **

"Beloved," it says, and he doesn't like it at all. Because the minute he found out his father had passed, he didn't feel anything – no sorrow, no sadness, no love - no great emotions. But he does remember anger. He remembers the anger he felt because he never got the chance to tell his father he hated him.

It seems anger has always been a familiar feeling for him. Not only has he felt it more often than not, he remembers that his father was always angry. Did he inherit that from him, or did he get that from the job?

Now he thinks of Olivia. He realizes for a moment that they are more alike than they'd like to admit. They both constantly wonder if they became who they are because of their surroundings, or if they were born that way – complete replicas of their parents – no matter how hard they tried to fight it. The more they deny it, or try to move away from it, the deeper they dive into it.

They both can't escape the memories of their fathers.

He wants to go home. But he wants Kathy and the kids to be there when he gets there. And he knows they won't be, which makes him hate himself more. He knows he can't stand here much longer, but as he turns to walk away, he hears a voice calling his name. It's a voice he's known for years. A voice that sends a chill up his spine.

"Elliot?" asks Kathy again, waiting for a reply. He turns to face the woman that has broken his heart. She's wearing a black dress and tears still stain her face. Her hair falls gingerly upon her thin shoulders; the wind blows wisps of it away from her face.

"Kathy," she breathes softly, breaking the silence. "What are you doing here?"

She tucks some hair behind her ear, crossing her arms. "Burial service," she answers simply. "A patient of mine passed away. The family asked me to come. I saw you across the yard. Figured I'd say hi."

"A patient?" he asks, with some disbelief and bitterness, and he's not sure why they're there.

Kathy closes her eyes against his cold demeanor. She opens them, defensive, yet calm.

"Yes, a patient." She pauses, staring at the man she had loved for twenty years of her life. "You know, our jobs aren't that different, Elliot. You and I see pain everyday – just in different forms," she says as she takes a step closer to him, shortening the gap between them. But she knows the ocean between them will never empty.

"Your pain is more humane…"

"You call watching a seven-year-old die of leukemia humane?" He doesn't answer and she crosses her arms tighter. "You know your victims. I know my patients. It's just the same as if you were attending a victim's funeral…" She stops abruptly. "Forget it."

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I didn't mean…"

"I know you didn't," she says dismissively.

This is their marriage all over again. Close, but so distant. Calm, but so emotional. There, but nonexistent.

"You never told me why you came here," she mentions, walking completely up to him. She stops right next to him and looks down at the grave he is hovering over. She knows, but she wants to hear it from him.

He sighs. "Just visiting," he shrugs.

"This is the last gravesite I'd expect you to visit." He stares at her, paralyzed by her words. "Don't act so shocked. I still know you and I know what kind of father he was," she whispers.

He nods, remaining silent, and Kathy hates it. She wishes he would just talk for once. "Yeah," he exhales. "Guess you're right."

"You know I'm right. Don't you remember when we had to tell him I was pregnant with Maureen? I think it was that very moment he hated me and I don't think he stopped until the day he died."

He sighs again, running a nervous hand through his hair. "If there was one thing I could've kept from you, Kath, he would've been it."

"I'm glad you didn't though. I'm glad you trusted me enough to share him with me. To share that pain with me."

"I never wanted to."

"But I'll always love you more because you did."

"You still love me?" he asks with such raw and honest curiosity.

She takes in a deep breath. "I'm always going to love you, El. You're the husband I shared twenty years of my life with. You're the father of my children. And you're a great man. But I don't love you like a wife should. We were so young when we got married. We thought we knew everything. But you know that we've just grown apart. We're both very different people than we were twenty years ago."

"That's why you left?"

"That, and I was tired of being alone. I was tired of not knowing you."

"I'm sorry, Kathy."

"Me, too."

The silence is undeniable and Kathy can't stand this. She can't stand tip-toeing around the issue.

"Why'd you really come here? A case get to you? Trying to beat yourself up more? What made you come back this far to the past?"

"I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately. I go where I'm led now."

She looks at him, knowing he won't say anymore. The hope that he'll tell her more, that he'll let her in just a little more, has been diminished. It's been gone a long time now. "I wish you the best, Elliot. Let me know if you need anything."

He offers a small, forced smile and manages a, "thanks," out of his mouth.

Kathy walks away, making her way to her car, but she stops, turning to face him one more time.

"You're nothing like him, Elliot."

"What?" he asks, turning to her.

"You're a great father. Our children idolize the hell outta you. I don't think any one of our girls could be more of a daddy's girl. And Dickie…he wants to be just like you."

He pauses, looking down. "I think that's what I'm afraid of."

"Don't be," she shakes her head. "If you believe anything that I say anymore, believe this. You're nothing like him. You never have been, and you're never going to be. It takes guts to be a real father. He was…he was just a man."

"What would you consider me then?"

She smiles. "A father. A real father."

"How can you be so sure?" he challenges.

She sighs, looking away from his intense glare for a moment. "Because there was a time when you talked to me. And I saw you with your father. I saw the glares he'd give you, or the quick little insults he'd manage to slip into any conversation. I saw the way you'd never be comfortable around him." She turns to him, looking into the blue eyes she has loved since the moment she met this man. "And I've seen our kids with their father. I've seen the way they just adore you. You put them at ease, you can make them laugh, you love them more than they love you."

She stops, making sure he understands her. "And your father that I saw, and the father I see in you are two completely different people. They're nothing alike. You're not him. You're not him at all."

He nods in appreciation, and as Kathy walks away, he calls after her. "I'm sorry about your patient."

"I appreciate it. Thank you." She pauses. "Elliot, before I go, Kathleen wants to sit down with both of us soon. You know, to talk about her college things. Her fund, possible scholarships, applications. I was thinking maybe you could come Friday afternoon, right after school. We could talk and then maybe you could take the kids out for awhile. Would that be okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good," he nods. "When do you want me to drop them off on Saturday?"

"You know," she thinks out loud. "How about you take them to school Monday? I'll pick them up."

He smiles, thanking her for the opportunity.

**Baker Residence  
October 7  
-3:37pm-**

He steps out of his car and comes to the front door, ringing the bell. He waits patiently until Kathleen answers the door. She looks different from the last time he saw her. A little taller, her hair a little blonder, her eyes a little bluer, her attitude a little more mature.

"Hey Daddy," she smiles, falling into his arms. He holds her tight, memorizing every inch of her. He knows that next time he sees her she'll be a little more different again.

"Hey, Honey," he replies, coming inside. "How are ya?"

She smiles, because she wants to say that she's better because he's here, but she says, "A little overwhelmed with all this paperwork, but I'm surviving. How about you?"

"Hanging in there," he smiles. "Where's your mom?"

"She went to the store. She'll be back soon."

"And your grandma?"

"Some church thing. Women's Club, I think. Sometimes I think she lives at that place."

"Part of her does," he agrees with a laugh.

"Praying for all the damned souls like us," she says rolling her eyes, obviously annoyed by the amount of time her grandmother says they're doomed for eternal damnation if she keeps wearing shorts that short and if he keeps being so closed off.

"Somebody has to."

They laugh and Kathleen can't help but lean into her father's embrace when they sit down on the couch.

"So, you start anything yet?" he asks, wrapping an arm around her.

"Well, Mom and I started to look at some things, but we were waiting for you for all the heavy duty stuff," she chuckles.

"Gee, thanks."

She laughs, but it disappears quickly. "Daddy? Are you sure you wanna do this? Be in the same room with Mom for hours."

He strokes her shoulder. "We going to be fine, okay? Trust me."

"Okay," she says assuringly.

Something stops him inside. Something grabs him. "What'd you say?" he asks.

Kathleen looks confused. "You said to trust you," she repeats slowly. "And I said okay. I'll trust you, Dad. You've never given me a reason not to." Kathleen rolls her eyes again. "Dad, I know you're getting old and everything, but I thought we had a couple more years until your memory loss kicks in."

They laugh, and Elliot playfully and softly slaps her arm. "Brat," he mutters with a chuckle. But deep down, he is relaxing and relieved. For his children can do something with him that he could never do with his own father. They can trust him.

"C'mere," he says, pulling her into a hug.

---  
A/n- so, how was it? Just something that came through my mind, so I figured I'd write it and get some feedback. Let me know: good, bad, ugly, and indifferent. Until next post, adios! –Jessica


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